


It's My Party

by Qinderella



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dark side!Kylo, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Just a little Crack, Kissing, Lots of Crying, M/M, Mentions of Losing Virginity, Past Leia Organa/Han Solo, Pre-The Force Awakens, Sexual Tension, Skywalker Family Feels, Uncle!Luke Skywalker, Young Kylo is a brat, Young!Ben Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6970057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qinderella/pseuds/Qinderella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this for the following prompt:</p>
<p>Prompt: It’s Person A’s birthday in a week or two, but Person A doesn't really like celebrating it for one reason or another. And somehow Person B finds out and throws them a really nice party and they have this elaborate scheme to get Person A to the party and when Person B and the other party guests jump out in surprise, Person A just kinda stands there for a second before crying, like ‘this is so nice.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's My Party

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of fluffy Kylux!

“Ren!”

Shit.

Kylo halted in his tracks, reluctantly spinning around when he heard General Hux yell his name. He could tell from his tone of voice that he was in for it… And he'd just completely wrecked the break room, so yeah, there was that. 

“ _ Ren! _ ” Hux said his name again, despite the fact that he'd already stopped and turned to face him. 

“What?” Kylo snapped, scowling beneath his mask. His voice distorter was on and Hux rolled his eyes. He knew that Kylo only kept it on in attempts to make himself more intimidating, and it might have worked on some of the storm troopers, but it sure as  _ hell  _ didn’t work on him. 

“Oh, you know damn well  _ what _ , Ren,” Hux hissed, and at this point he was practically pressed up against Kylo to get in his face, and Kylo’s heart was beating at least two beats faster per minute than usual. It wasn't a big deal or anything, but a couple weeks ago, he and Hux had slept together. And by slept together, Kylo meant that they had sex. It had started as an argument, and there had been a clear moment that he thought Hux was going to break his controlled composure and just deck him, then they were kissing. Then it had been a scramble to see who could make it to Kylo’s quarters first. They'd fallen into the sheets, stayed there for a few hours. Hux surprisingly hadn't left immediately after, and instead sat on the edge of the bed, but Kylo fell asleep and when he woke up, Hux was gone. Unsurprisingly, Hux had not mentioned it since or changed anything about the way that he interacted with Kylo. It was fine--and totally not worth mentioning that their random encounter had been Kylo’s first time. He was actually rather embarrassed by that fact, but he was sure that Hux had no idea. He'd given no indications of his virginity--and had bit into his pillow really hard to stifle the screams. He was sure that if he'd told Hux it would be his first, that the general wouldn't have done it with him at all. And, well, Kylo had really wanted to do it. So when Hux had asked,  _ ‘Ren, you’ve done this before right?’  _ Kylo had replied  _ ‘Of course, tons of times,’  _ then pulled his superior into another bruising kiss. And Hux was none the wiser. It had been nothing short of excruciating at first...but hey, pain made him stronger. And after the initial pain...well, it had been...nice. Kylo blinked beneath the mask, glad that Hux couldn't see his facial expressions. 

“I--”

Hux cut him off, and if he'd been anyone else, Kylo certainly would've force-choked him by now. But force-choking Hux caused a rather unpleasant physiological reaction for him, so he tried to avoid it when at all possible. “I don't  _ care _ , Ren. You cannot keep destroying equipment--”

“A  _ vending machine _ is hardly--”

“Oh-oh, did you not hear me, Ren?  _ I. Don't. Care.  _ You caused a scene, you cost this base extra money, and you acted like a  _ child!  _ You are twenty-eight years old, Ren, start acting like it!” Hux was fuming, and not thinking at all about what Kylo looked like on his knees. He knew how to compartmentalise. 

“Twenty-nine.” 

Kylo hadn't really meant to say that, with the way that Hux was speaking to him, he should've said quite a few other things, but for whatever reason, correcting Hux about his age had seemed like the imperative. 

Instead of chastising Kylo further, all Hux managed to do was blink at him. The only reason he even  _ knew  _ Kylo’s age was because it was on his file, and he swore that last time he saw, it said twenty-eight…

“Um. My birthday is next Tuesday. So I'm twenty-nine--I will be twenty-nine,” Kylo cringed at the words coming out of his mouth, they were awkward, this was awkward, and even his voice distorter couldn't bring him back from this. 

Hux continued to stare blankly. “Your  _ birthday _ ?” He finally managed to reply, looking almost flabbergasted. In all honestly, Hux did not remember his own birthday. It had not been a fact his parents had considered important, so they never told him. 

Defensively, Kylo just growled an affirmative, then snapped, “Is that all, General?” Then didn't wait for a reply before swirling around, cape fluttering dramatically with the movement, as he stormed off down the hallway. 

Hux was still standing there, even after Kylo rounded the corner. 

 

. 

.

 

Kylo was still cursing himself long after he was sure it didn't matter anymore. Surely by this point, Hux had rolled his eyes, wondered how a Sith Lord like Kylo Ren could still be so damn  _ awkward _ , then promptly moved on with his life and never gave another thought to something as insignificant as Kylo’s birthday. Information like that wasn't exactly going to crush the resistance. Ugh. It's not like Hux was still standing in the damn hallway. It didn't matter. 

Yet, Kylo was still brooding and his private quarters had received the brunt of it. Clothes were strewn across the floor in a sea of black and there were new, fresh marks on the steel walls from his saber. Angrily, he tossed it aside, making sure it landed on his bed, then slumped down at his messy desk with a sigh. He removed his mask with a click and set it on his desk, staring at it glumly.  _ Birthdays _ were not a matter he enjoyed dwelling on, yet every time the accursed day drew nearer, he barely has control over his thoughts, he was lost in his own mind, stumbling down corridors he would prefer never be dusted off.. 

 

_ No one came. Of course no one came, Kylo Ren didn't have any friends. And he came by it honestly, because Ben Skywalker hadn't had any friends either. It wasn't for his parents’ lack of trying--or their lack of trying to try, rather. Neither of them really knew much about making friends, in all honesty, so when no one showed up for Kylo’s birthday party, their reactions were not exactly comforting.  _

_ “Fuck ‘em.” His dad had always been the first one to break the awkward silence, and it always earned a glare from Mom. He really wasn't sure why, it's not like what she said was any better.  _

_ “Maybe the holos got lost.” For the fifth year in a row.  _

_ “I'm sure everyone is just really busy, it's a busy time of the year…” …  _

_ “Well, we’ll just have a family day! Uncle Luke will be here soon.” That was about ten million times worse than ‘fuck ‘em.’  _

_ Fifteen-year-old Ben didn't want to talk about it, he didn't get why they had to say anything at all. He didn't even want to send out invites to the other kids, it was all his mom who would send out cute little pink holos, that somehow managed to sound more like invitations to a diplomatic dinner than a teenage birthday party--she had spent too long running the Galaxy. _

_ Ben didn't like the other kids, he didn't need them to be there on his birthday, and he would've appreciated it if his mother had just spared him the vague disappointment of discovering the other kids didn't like him either every single year.  _

_ “Birthday presents? Or cake first?” Leia asked, trying to rebound from her and Han’s awkward fumbling and trying to clear away any extra place settings they'd made in anticipation of Ben’s peers coming.  _

_ With a long-suffering sigh, as though he were being asked to choose between death by disembowelment and death by electrocution, Ben gazed plaintively at his mother. “Cake, I guess,” he replied, and watched the way that her face lit up with a smile, unmoved. His mother always made his birthday cake. It always sucked.  _

_ This year was obviously not going to be any different, that much was clear from the moment that Ben laid eyes upon it.  _

**_Happy birthday, Ben Solo-Organa!_ **

_ It was scribbled across pale pink icing in messy black letters, and Ben immediately started yelling about it. “I've told you, no less than a thousand times, no less, that I'm a  _ **_Skywalker_ ** _ , Mom!”  _

_ With all the patience that she did not have, Leia took a deep breath and drew herself up. She glanced over at Han for moral support, but he took a step back as if to tell her that it was her battle, and she glared at him, before looking back at Ben. “Ben, we've talked about this. You are a Skywalker, it's in your blood. But your father and I--” _

_ “Oh, blast, I don't understand why it's such a big deal! You and Dad don't even share a last name! Why do I have to share one with you? How is that fair? I'm a Skywalker, why can't other people know?”  _

_ Leia may have been infuriated, just a little infuriated, that she had put in the blood, sweat, and tears when it came to Ben, and he'd rather share a namesake with her dead father, and mostly absent brother, but she was a firm believer in picking her battles. So instead of telling her son that tough shit, life wasn't fair, she stalked across the kitchen, found the black icing and went back over to the slightly lopsided cake. With messy precision, she scrawled SKYWALKER as big as possible over Solo-Organa, which of course turned the letters into an unidentifiable jumble and Ben huffed, but she could feel something close to happiness roll off of him in a wave, and at this point, she would take that.  _

_ Also, when she asked Ben what piece he wanted, he pointed to the right hand corner, the Skywalker corner, so maybe she could count this as a full blown success.  _

_ “None for me, thanks,” Han shook his head when Leia gestured to the cake with a knife. Leia was a terrible baker.  _

_ “Is this chocolate?” Ben suddenly whined, looking at his piece of cake with a brand new contempt.  _

_ “Yes, it's--” _

_ “I don't like chocolate! You know that! I like vanilla,”  _

_ “Everyone likes chocolate,” Han interjected, reaching over the cake to get to the milk.  _

_ Ben groaned. “That's not the point! Why don't you guys listen to me?”  _

_ “Ben,” Leia said sternly, “you never said that you didn't like chocolate. You've just said that you like vanilla.”  _

_ She was right. Ben was quiet. He picked at his cake anyway, but he wished it was vanilla the entire time, so it didn't count.  _

_ They ate the cake in silence, and despite how truly terrible it tasted--Leia’s desserts were drier than the Tatooine deserts--it was probably one of the better moments of the day.  _

_ Leia ate a piece of the cake, and Han and Ben wondered for the millionth time what kind of food she ate growing up, then she put the leftovers away, and if she seemed to stare at the fragmented icing words for too long, well, they both pretended not to notice.  _

_ “Presents now?” Ben asked, and while he was still sulking a little, he had mostly mellowed out and was in no more of a bad mood than usual. Happy would've been overstating it a little, but he was content.  _

_ “If you want to open Dad’s now, that's fine,” Leia nodded, after a glance at Han, who shrugged indifferently, “I wanted you to wait to open mine until your Uncle Luke gets here. He should be here soon.”  _

_ Ben nodded, acquiesed by the answer. The small family moved out into the living area, where a small pile of gifts were piled on the table. They were poorly wrapped, but the wrapping flimsi was at least a pattern that Ben liked. It was black.  _

_ He sat down between his parents, and gazed at the presents, watching as Han reached forward and grabbed one of the lumpier ones, then dropped it in his lap. Ben blinked blankly. _

_ “Happy birthday, son,” Han said, shifting a little uncomfortably. It was subtle, but Ben was perceptive and subconsciously picked up on it. Even after fifteen years, Han still wasn’t used to being settled down, having a family. He was gone a lot, though he’d never missed Ben’s birthday. In some strange way, that made it worse. It was such a shallow effort, being present for the big things and absent for the little things. Like he was just following a manuscript. Except the manuscript didn’t exist and he didn’t actually read it, he just did the best he could with what he thought he had to do. Ben didn’t spend much time contemplating it. His dad could be distant and absent if that’s what he wanted to be. Ben was used to it. Besides, he was far more interested in his mother’s side of the family anyway, and she was his main link to that. _

_ Ben tugged at the flimsi until it ripped, revealing a jacket, lopsidedly folded. Ben wrinkled his nose. It was a faded, brown leather jacket. Brown. “A used jacket?” he finally asked, shaking it out and gazing at it with no small amount of disdain. It was...brown. _

_ Han harrumphed, and muttered, “It’s brand new. It’s distressed.” And Ben might’ve laughed, if he weren’t so annoyed. _

_ “When I said I wanted a new jacket, I meant to stay warm. For when I go do training with Uncle Luke.”  _

_ Han grimaced. _

_ “Like...something wool. Something black.” _

_ “Hey, okay, look here--there is nothin’ wrong with a quality leather jacket.”  _

_ Ben distorted his face even further. “Yeah, maybe not when you’re stuck in the last decade--”  _

_ Leia circumvented the inevitable fight that was about to brew out of nothing but sarcastic comments and male ego, and shot Han a look, then turned to Ben. “Will you just try it on?” she asked, nicely but not sweetly. _

_ Ben sighed, as though the entire world were resting on his shoulders, then muttered fine. He stood up and slid the jacket on. It was a little too big, Han didn’t know his size, but it at least fit comfortably over the black sweater that he was wearing.  _

_ Han looked awkwardly sentimental when Ben gave a little half-hearted turn, and it made him quickly peel off the jacket and toss it back onto the pile of gifts. Leia was smiling, though.  _

_ “He kind of looked like you, for a second there,” Leia said to Han, and part of it was just her teasing Ben, but there was underlying affection in her voice, and Han rolled his eyes, but reached over and touched her hand. Ben was uncomfortable, and very happy when the bell rang, alerting them that Luke had finally arrived.  _

_ Luke came in, trailed by R2-D2, arms full of gifts, and eyes bright. Though Ben was still in a generally sour mood about the disappointing jacket, he was happy to see his Uncle Luke. Luke wasn’t around that much, as he taught young jedis, as well as his still having his own missions, but Ben understood that. It’s not like he was out travelling space, working mediocre jobs, with a wookiee. Like some people. Soon, though, Luke would be taking Ben on his padawan. And he would carry on the Skywalker family legacy and become a great jedi. Ben already couldn’t wait to begin his jedi training with Luke, even if his uncle was...awkward. _

_ “Luke!” Leia smiled broadly and immediately went to throw her arms around her brother, who smiled gently and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. He missed, got her nose instead, and blushed. She just laughed and hugged him again. It had been at least two months since she’d last seen her brother and she had missed him dearly. Though she was used to being away from him, she always felt a little piece of her click back into place when he came back.  _

_ Han also got up to greet Luke, making some little quip, but then smiling and giving him a hug as well. Luke leaned into it as best as he could with all the gifts in his arms, which Han took from him, making some little jab insinuating that Luke was clumsy, and Luke just rolled his eyes, then moved in to greet Ben. He opened his arms, as though he were going to go in for a hug, then seemed to second guess himself with and withdraw instead. They shared a not-hug, just staring and standing in somewhat close proximity, for several seconds longer than necessary, and Ben finally awkwardly coughed and Luke smiled sheepishly, closing the distance between them and giving his nephew a real hug. “Happy birthday, Ben.”  _

_ “Thanks, Uncle Luke,” Ben replied, holding onto Luke for longer than the jedi had expected, though he didn’t complain. Instead, he kept his arms fastened firmly around Ben’s waist, shut his eyes, and just focused on the way that his nephew’s hair smelled. Ben was the closest that Luke would ever come to having a child, and his only wish was that he could’ve been around more. They would be spending a lot of time together when Ben came off to train with him in only a few short months, and Luke hoped that entering into the master-padawan relationship didn’t ruin the familial bond that they had. Aside from Leia, Ben was the only blood relative that Luke had. And Luke did cherish his family.  _

_ Luke was Ben’s favourite family member, by far. He was a jedi master, which automatically made him the coolest, and he almost always indulged Ben, by telling him stories and explaining things of past to him. Ben often wished that his parents had just given him to Luke when he was a child, but Leia in particular had insisted that he wait until he was a teen to go away for his training. When he would protest, Luke would sweetly remind him that he was nineteen before he began his training, and had still turned out all right, and Ben would still sulk about it, but he was comforted that he wouldn’t be a failure by starting his training so late.  _

_ The hug finally broke, and Luke gave Ben a smile, which Ben actually returned, then they both headed over to where Leia and Han were waiting. Leia was holding a box, looking a little hesitant from how tightly she was gripping it. _

_ “Ben,” she took a deep breath, and continued to hold the box, even as Ben held out his hands for it. “This is a gift from your uncle and I.” _

_ “I’ve kept this for many, many years,” Luke interjected, then placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder, “But I think that it’s time for you to have it.” _

_ Ben’s eyes went wide. “But Uncle Luke, you told me I couldn’t have a saber until I started training--” _

_ “It’s not a lightsaber,” Luke quickly interrupted, gesturing for Leia to hand over the box. “You will inherit my lightsaber one day, but for now, your mother and I thought you should have this.”  _

_ Now Ben was confused. If it wasn’t a lightsaber, he had no idea what it could be. _

_ And absolutely nothing could have prepared him for opening up the box. He was actually completely speechless for at least thirty seconds. He gaped, eyes wide and almost expressionless. Could this be… _

_ He lifted the object out of the box and continued to stare, until Leia finally broke the silence. _

_ “This was your grandfather’s, Ben. We know how much you care about his legacy, Ben, and so we thought you could have this, as a reminder of it.” she was bunching up the fabric of her skirt, talking about Anakin always made her vaguely uncomfortable. _

_ “He died to save us, and this mask is a reminder of his redemption, of the call of the light,” Luke added, a lot more impassioned than Leia, as he felt far more fealty towards their fallen father.  _

_ Tears began to collect in Ben’s eyes, as he could hardly believe that they’d actually managed to get him something so perfect, and he was clutching the worn, damaged mask, unaware of how tightly, until his dad promptly ripped it out of his hands.  _

_ “You have got to be kiddin’ me.” _

_ “Hey--! Get your hands off of that!” Ben yelled, trying to reach for the mask, but Han held it out of his reach. Enraged, Ben squinted his eyes and the mask flew out of his dad’s hands and back into his. Such a reflexive use of the force made Luke bristle, and Leia jumped, immediately trying to mediate the situation, but this one was too far gone. _

_ “Are the two of you serious? I thought I was the damaged one,” Han snorted, looking between Luke and Leia. Luke was wide-eyed, looking horrifyingly confused, and Leia just looked mad. “I get it, I get Anakin Skywalker, The Chosen One, the legendary jedi--that’s Darth Vader’s mask. The same one who killed people--innocents, children--and tried to kill, oh I don’t know, all of us, for starters--” _

_ “Han--” _

_ “No, save it, Luke, Ben’s my kid, not yours. And I don’t appreciate you sweepin’ in here and giving him a sith lord’s mask for his fifteenth birthday--” _

_ “Well it’s better than a jacket that I won’t even wear!” Ben shouted, holding the mask close to his chest. _

_ “Ben--” Leia tried to interject, but Ben was on a roll at this point and continued to shout over her.  _

_ “You didn’t get me anything I asked for! Not a single thing! You didn’t get me any of the vinyls, or the boots, or the datapads, you didn’t even get me a coat that I wanted! Uncle Luke got those things for me,” Ben gestured to the rest of the gifts and Luke’s ears tinged pink, because yes--he had gotten the vinyls and the boots and the datapads that Ben had expressed wanting over the last couple of months--and he quickly looked away from the building altercation. “He always does! Don’t pretend that this is about you protecting me--this is about your pride! Well, like it or not Dad, I’m a Skywalker, with or without my grandfather’s helmet! If you wanted a son to grow up and be just like you, maybe you should’ve done something with your life other than smuggling!”  _

_ Though he shouldn’t have taken the bait, should’ve just endured and took Ben’s intentionally cutting comments, Han shot back, because that’s just who he was as a person. “Yeah, well, Luke is not your father, even if you wish that he was, so he’s not here day in day out to hear you play the same two songs on loop and complain about every damn thing your mother cooks, so excuse me if I don’t sing Luke endless praise, and your grandfather is dead, and kid, he didn’t die as much of a hero as your uncle likes to pretend--” _

_ “Han!” Leia finally successfully interjected and she stood, gesturing for Han to follow. “Kitchen, now.”  _

_ They retreated, bickering, though Han did shoot a last glance back Ben’s way. Ben was still clutching the helmet to his chest and he had began to cry.  _

_ R2-D2 had noticed the rising distress and tension, and he hovered over to where Ben was sitting, bumping into his leg and beeping lovingly at him.  _

_ Ben pretty much just ignored the robot and continued to cry. Luke was still sitting on the couch, feeling more than a little awkward now. _

_“Uhh, Ben…”_ _  
__“It’s not fair,” Ben sniffled, continuing to cry. “I am a Skywalker. I am. Just like you and Grandfather.”_

_ “Of course you are,” Luke placated, scooting a little closer, and placing a gentle hand on Ben’s shoulder. “But you know, your grandfather would want you and your dad to have a good relationship. He...He really cared about family, in his own way. His closest family was the man you were named after, and they would’ve done just about anything for each other--” _

_ “I know, Uncle Luke,” Ben sniffed, moving a hand up to swipe at his tears. “You’ve told me before.” _

_ “Han loves you,” Luke tried a different angle, accepting it gracefully when Ben pulled away testily from a comforting hand. “I know he doesn’t always do a great job at showing it, but I promise, you’re his whole world.” _

_ “Yeah, well, he’s not mine,” and as much as Ben loved his Uncle Luke, he got up and stormed out of the room, and slammed his bedroom door. _

_ He cried until his throat hurt. _

_ Happy birthday to him. _

 

That had been the last birthday that he celebrated. A few months after that, he had left with Luke to begin his training. His relationship with his parents had been shaky at best, damaged at worst, but when he packed his bag and started to wave goodbye, Han had pulled him in for a hug, then reached over and snagged Darth Vader’s helmet from the pile of stuff that Kylo had stacked up to bring.  _ Here. Don’t forget this.  _ He'd said, a little awkwardly, shuffling his feet as Kylo had taken the helmet unquestioningly. He obviously wasn't going to forget it, and Han knew that. It had been a gesture, maybe one of regret for how he'd acted those months ago. Or maybe it was an attempt at bonding with Kylo, something he'd never really figured out how to do.  _ I won't.  _ Is all Kylo had said back, but he might've held his and Han’s awkward hug longer than he would've otherwise. He knew his mother was going to cry as soon as he left, so he didn't look back as he headed outside and joined Luke, who was waiting patiently, looking somber and maybe a little guilty. 

By the time Kylo’s next birthday rolled around, he had betrayed Luke, killed all the Jedi children who had grown fond of him-- _ Master Skywalker...what are you doing?...Are you going to teach us a lesson?- _ -and discarded the name of Skywalker into the pile he'd tossed Organa and Solo so many years before. 

Luke had found out about Kylo’s betrayal three days before his birthday. Kylo had not known, and probably never would know, that Luke had the stuff to make vanilla cake--his favourite--and had gotten him the new boots that he wanted, even though jedis “didn’t celebrate” their birthdays. 

Sweet sixteen.

At sixteen, he'd felt the tugs of sadness. Despite his chronically terrible birthdays, they seemed better than no birthday at all. 

At seventeen, he knew he would never have a birthday again.

At eighteen, he wished he could forget the date altogether. 

At twenty-eight, he knew he never would. 

.

.

“Did you know that it's Kylo Ren’s birthday is this coming Tuesday?” 

Phasma blinked once, twice, three times beneath her helmet. She briefly wondered if the general was quizzing her, then answered honestly anyway. “I did not, General, though I am sure that information is easily accessible on the database.”

“It is,” Hux waved his hand dismissively. 

Phasma didn't question him further, as she rarely questioned her superiors and also, because she really didn't care. However, as she tried to go back to the equipment she was checking, Hux began to speak again. 

“What is the protocol, about birthdays that is?” Hux asked, and Phasma wondered if she should send him to med bay.

“I'm sorry, Sir, birthdays?”

“Yes,” Hux replied impatiently, as if  _ she  _ were the one bothering  _ him _ , rather than the other way around. “Does the Supreme Leader have any... objections to birthday celebrations?”

Phasma blinked again. “...I don't believe the Supreme Leader has ever spoken on the matter, Sir. So as of right now...no. There is no existing protocol.” 

She very pointedly turned back around to the machinery she was working on, loudly clanking a wrench. She could've screamed when even this display didn't deter Hux, and he began to speak, yet again. 

“I think that we should do a little something for Ren’s birthday.” 

Phasma would've been shocked, if Hux hadn't taken his sweet time leading up to such a bizarre revelation. At this point, Phasma had already processed it and decided how little she cared. “As you wish, General.” 

“It would be good for...ship morale. Don't you think it would be good for ship morale?”

Oh my god, why did General Hux not get that they weren't friends. Phasma held in a deep sigh, and didn't bother pointing out that the general had  _ never  _ cared about ship morale before, and simply gave a simple affirmative agreement.

“All right. I'll put together something small, then. You know, just a way to smooth the ice.” Hux informed her, then paused before continuing, carrying on in a vicious cycle that she wanted to be removed from immediately. “Would you assign a few of your storm troopers to help me?”

“Yes, Sir. I'll make the announcement later on this morning, and you can choose any of them that you'd like.” 

General Hux berated her about making sure that Kylo Ren did not find out,  _ Kylo Ren must not find out-- _ and Phasma agreed, then subtly suggested that if he didn't want Ren to find out, he should probably quit talking about it. He surprisingly took that bait, and shut his mouth. The following silence was blissful. 

If General Hux wanted to bake a cake and hang up streamers from the durasteel walls, then low be it for Phasma to stop him. 

Besides, if it got him out of her hair, well, then she would damn near let him use her storm troopers to plan parties every week. 

.

.

Hux struggled.  

Kylo’s birthday may have been on the database, but that only told Hux the day. It didn't tell him what to do for it. Growing up, Hux had never celebrated his birthday. His parents didn't believe in indulgences, they believed in order and improvement. One year, they coincidentally brought home a grand piano on his birthday, but it wasn't a gift. It was a lesson. They told Hux that birthday cakes and candles were nothing more than distractions for children who liked to feel self important, and it was better to be important than feel important. 

However, now Hux found himself wishing that his parents had instilled him with a little more working knowledge of birthday celebrations, as he was standing in the kitchen, up to his elbows with batter, as he had three different types sitting on the counter. Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate. 

Chocolate, everyone liked chocolate, right?

As Hux thought that, he reached for the vanilla instead. With a shrug, he picked up the bowl and began to stir the batter with an easy precision to his whisking. Kylo was much more of a vanilla person, he didn't need a database to tell him that anyways. Not that Kylo had ever told him so, but Hux felt fairly certain in his decision, and continued to stir the batter methodically. Kylo had never told him much of anything. They didn't talk very much. Sure, they bickered around the ship, and sometimes conferred about missions, but talking, that was something else entirely.

So, if they never talked, why did Hux feel as if he knew Kylo so well?

Maybe it was the way that Kylo had a tendency to interject awkward statements and facts into conversations, always catching Hux a little off guard, or maybe it was the way that Kylo looked at him on the rare occasions he wasn't wearing his helmet, or maybe it was how Kylo had sounded when he murmured  _ you can pull it...my hair, you can pull it, if you want,  _ as Hux’s fingers reflexively traced down his spine…

He'd been trying not to think about that. Sleeping with Kylo Ren. 

It had been the knight’s first time, that much had been eyeroll worthy obvious. Hux didn't mind, honestly. It hadn't been his first, of course, but he wasn't exactly jumping into bed with everyone he ever met, either. Kylo Ren had been one of his more indulgent encounters, and it had done nothing but stroke his ego to know he was the knight’s first. But he could tell that Kylo had been self conscious about it, so he hadn't said anything, and let Kylo pretend. Not wanting to ruin the encounter before he finished. Of course, that was it. It definitely wasn't out of consideration for Kylo’s feelings.

If he focused hard enough, he could still faintly feel the imprint of Kylo’s blunt nails against his shoulders. Instead, he focused on the cake, and licked the batter-covered spoon.

It was pretty good, and Kylo Ren definitely preferred vanilla. 

.

.

The day of Kylo’s birthday was approaching rapidly, and all of the stormtroopers had been informed of the impending party. They were just as confounded by it as Phasma, but also cared just as little. If it was the General’s wishes, they would simply salute and perform their duties, though they might’ve whispered in the breakroom a little more than usual. 

Everything was in order, Hux believed. The cake--he’d even gotten twenty-nine candles, so no one could say he wasn’t thorough--the decorations, the gifts--nothing big, just a couple of items that he happened to know Kylo wanted thanks to his holonet history, and it was all either fantastically dull or completely over the top, as Hux had done his best to give Kylo Ren a textbook birthday party. Hux hoped that Kylo would enjoy it, or at least appreciate the sentiment, though really, he knew those were high expectations as this was Kylo Ren they were talking about. Kylo was always difficult. 

“Ren.”

Hux could practically see Kylo roll his eyes when he said his name, even though he was wearing his mask. However, he still stopped and waited for Hux to make it down the hallway to where he had stopped in his tracks.

“General.”

“I need you to be in the rec room tomorrow at fourteen o’clock.” Hux explained, and when he could feel Kylo staring blankly at him, he sighed in exasperation. “I would like for you to give a combat demonstration to my men. If the rumours are true, if there is the possibility of the return of the jedi, I want them to be prepared for any fight that may come their way.”

Hux could see Kylo bristle, presumably because he’d called him a jedi in a roundabout way, and rolled his eyes. “It won’t take long.” 

Kylo finally nodded. “Of course. Is that all, General?” 

Hux had to bite back his long suffering sigh this time. “Yes, that’s all. Don’t be late tomorrow!” He called that last bit as he and Kylo parted ways, Kylo heading back to his quarters presumably, and Hux back to the kitchen. 

Now, if the stormtroopers could keep quiet for just a little while longer, and if Kylo showed up on time the following day and with didn’t destroy the festivities with a tantrum and his lightsaber, Hux just might consider this an even bigger success than conquering the galaxy. After all, conquering the galaxy didn’t involve baking a double decker vanilla cake.

.

.

Hux needed him to give a demonstration. It was his birthday.

There was no correlation, but those two thoughts cycled Kylo’s head all morning, and he tried to reach an internal consensus on whether Hux’s professional request for his company was better or worse than no request at all. On one hand, he would be seeing Hux, and doing something productive, whereas he would have been staring blankly at his wall, or talking to his grandfather’s helmet if Hux hadn’t asked. However, it was his birthday, Hux knew it was his birthday thanks to his awkward word vomit the previous week, and he’d asked Kylo to come in and train his stormtroopers. 

Then again, this was General Hux he was talking about. Maybe that was the epitome of romance to such a utilitarian man--

These thoughts were getting Kylo nowhere and he hit himself in the head a couple of times with the flat of his palm in frustration. 

He had no right to expect Hux to acknowledge his birthday one way or the other. They’d barely been talking since they had...lied together. Kylo wasn’t great at hints, but even he’d gotten that one loud and clear.

He was in a pretty sullen mood by the time that he reached the rec room, and he was frowning beneath his helmet as he pushed the door open. Oh well, at least training the storm troopers would allow him to release his frustrations a little. He'd have to be careful not to seriously wound any of them, though, or Phasma would probably actually kill him this time--

“SURPRISE!!!” 

An awkward chorus of off-key shouting as soon as Kylo opened the door nearly knocked him off his feet, and he surveyed the room with a confused gaze from behind his mask, and in that moment, he was so unreasonably glad that he'd opted to wear it, as no one could see his facial expression as he gazed at the scene before him.

Hux and Phasma were standing together, Phasma wasn't wearing her mask, she looked even scarier and more exasperated without it, and Hux was smiling, just a little and it was strained, but he was smiling. At Kylo. There were probably about 20 stormtroopers, all dressed down, looking as awkward as Kylo usually felt, and glancing periodically at Phasma for what seemed like reassurance. She would obviously resist the impulse to roll her eyes and nod approvingly to them, and they would return to looking at Kylo, arms rigidly gesturing towards a table in the middle of the room. 

On the table, there was a cake with twenty-nine candles, in perfectly uniformed lines. The cake was perfectly rectangular and in beautiful scrawl, uninterrupted by the black candles, said  _ Happy birthday, Kylo Ren _ , and if they were on speaking terms, Kylo would've sent Leia a holo-pic and told her that this is what a proper cake looked like. Behind the cake table was a banner that said  _ Happy 29th birthday, Kylo Ren!  _ in fancy gold lettering on the plain black cloth. It was very minimalist, but neat, and everything was in his favourite colours. 

Kylo didn't know how long he had been standing there staring, but possibly for a very long time, as Hux finally stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Uh, happy birthday, Ren. The cake is vanilla, and we all chipped in and got you an original recording of The Imperial March, but it didn't arrive on time. It should be here in 3-5 business days, though, so just be on the lookout for that… Ren?”

.

.

As soon as Kylo stepped into the room, and the stormtroopers chorused a cacophonous HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Hux began to regret his life decisions. This was awkward, and if there was one thing Hux hated, it was awkward. When Kylo stood stone cold still, Hux half-expected him to snap, and slash the table in two with his lightsaber. And Hux wasn't the type to take things personally, but if he had to watch all of his hard work fall to the floor in pieces, well, he would either kill Kylo or cry. Both were detrimental options, so he clenched his fists and hoped with every fibre of his being that Kylo's lightsaber stayed clipped to his belt and didn't make an appearance. 

Kylo didn't seem ready to attack the room, and Hux was ready to breathe out a silent sigh of relief, but then Kylo began to make the most horrid noises and Hux actually started in surprise, then immediately peered at him in concern.

“... Ren?”

It sounded a little bit like he was choking and the voice-distorter wasn't helping matters, as Kylo emitted awful, cracking noises and Hux was still wondering if he was dying, or his voice-distorter was malfunctioning, when it hit him that Kylo was crying. 

“Kylo?”

He reached forward with one gloved hand, and he wasn't sure what he would've done with it, but he never got a chance to do anything but Kylo turned and bolted back out of the room with a dramatic swish of his cape. 

Hux stared at the empty space, and he could feel his back burning from where Phasma and the stormtrooper’s eyes were boring into his back. He gazed at the empty space for a moment, then whirled around, great coat swishing with the quick movement, and barked at Phasma and the troopers. “Don't cut the cake until Ren gets back! I'll...be back in a minute. Just, make sure there are enough...plates.”

The troopers stared dumbly at him, but Phasma nodded, despite her grand personal annoyance, and said, “of course, Sir.” 

Then Hux was striding quickly from the room. 

.

.

Kylo hadn't made it far, and Hux caught up to him at the end of the corridor. 

“Ren--Kylo, wait!” 

Kylo surprisingly listened and stopped storming away, turning around and Hux could still hear the distorted, thick-sounding sniffles. 

“Kylo… I…” Now that Hux actually had Kylo where he wanted him, he found that he had nothing to say. After all, he wasn’t really all that sure why Kylo was crying. If anything, he’d expected rage. That, he could’ve found a way to deal with. This, well, this was out of his comfort zone. “Kylo,” he tried again, and drew himself up a little, trying to look as dignified as possible, “The cake is waiting for you. And it’s no hurry, except that if you wait for too much longer, the wax will melt all over the place… Okay, there’s a bit of a hurry. If you want me to tell Phasma’s men to leave, I can, I just thought it might be a little awkward if it were only the three of us in that big room… Oh, for gods’ sakes, Ren, why are you still crying?” 

“It’s s-so n-nice,”

Hux wasn’t sure what he was expecting Kylo to say, some empty quip or an angry rebuttal, a refusal to blow out the stupid candles or eat the stupid cake, but he wasn’t expecting some broken, distorted sob, some vulnerable affirmation of all of Hux’s hard work. He was dumbfounded, and he stared into Kylo’s dumb mask, and finally reached forward, tentatively letting his hands rest on either side of it. “Kylo…” 

Kylo reached up and laid his hands atop Hux’s, pressing gently against the locks of his helmet, which clicked. Slowly, they both pulled the helmet up, to reveal Kylo’s flushed, tear-stained face and messy hair, and their eyes locked for several unwavering seconds. After what felt like a frozen moment in time, they simultaneously made the decision to toss his helmet to the side, ignoring how loudly it hit the ground, as they closed any and all distance between them and kissed. Kylo’s arms were looping around his neck, and Hux’s gloved hands slid to Kylo’s waist, squeezing and enjoying the way that Kylo moved up against him in response. 

When they broke apart, it was because Kylo was out of breath, and Hux gazed at him, eyes a little glazed over and lips a little swollen from Kylo’s...biting. Vaguely, he felt thankful that Phasma couldn’t care less about anything involving him, otherwise going back to face her like this would be unbearable. Mostly, he was just focused on staring at Kylo’s wet, reddened face, and wondering why he still thought the knight looked beautiful like this. He was doomed.

“I…” Kylo’s breathing was still out of synch, so he sucked in some air before continuing, “I’ve never had a nice birthday. Growing up, I… My birthday was always the worst day of the year. I never had...parties. No one would come. And my...no one ever put...the name...I wanted on the cake.”

Hux felt his heart begin to bleed a little, and he wondered what that said about the fact that he allegedly didn’t have one. Admittedly, he had never had a good birthday either. But he wasn’t supposed to. He hadn’t had any birthdays at all. Somehow, that had made it easier. If there was nothing to anticipate, then there was nothing to be disappointed in. He considered telling Kylo this, he considered opening up and telling Kylo that no one would’ve came to his party either, even if he’d been able to have one. And maybe one day, he would, but for the moment he just let one of his hands trail Kylo’s chest, coming to rest atop his heart, and gave him nothing short of bedroom eyes. “Was Kylo Ren okay for this cake?” Hux asked, and the way that he was gazing demurely through his eyelashes at Kylo was simply an act, but that didn’t mean that Kylo didn’t enjoy it. “Or should I have put  _ Skywalker _ ?” Hux bit his lip; he was flirting. Sure, Kylo had never mentioned that he wanted to use his grandfather’s surname, but between the creepy Darth Vader helmet that had  _ watched  _ them through all of their intimacy--Hux almost shuddered at the thought--and the many offhanded remarks about the man that Kylo made, well, it didn’t exactly take Hux’s full brain power to figure it out. 

Kylo was crying again, and that’s not the effect that Hux had wanted his flirting to have, but then Kylo was kissing him again, so maybe tears weren’t that bad where Kylo Ren was concerned. He moved his fingers up to tangle in Kylo’s hair, and he couldn’t feel it, but he knew that it was soft, if a little tangled, and Kylo made the best noises when he tugged a little bit. 

Finally, Kylo pulled away, though he kept their foreheads pressed together, and it felt startlingly intimate, but Hux didn’t feel any need to pull away.

“No. Kylo Ren is fine.” He replied, and he shivered when he felt the smooth material of Hux’s glove against his cheek. “Also, vanilla is my favourite.” 

Hux felt his lips tug up into a smile, and he gave Kylo’s hair another sharp tug, listening to the way that it made the knight whine. “I know it is.” 

Kylo’s eyes betrayed a combination of wonder, awe, and slight horror, probably as he wondered if that was in Hux’s database, too,  and Hux had to laugh and kiss him again. “Happy birthday, Kylo.” 

For once, it was. 


End file.
